The Ball
by Dragonrider47
Summary: The Ball is on again at the castle and Jane has agreed to go after some convincing from her mother. But Jane's friends have their own problems too, can she help get them through?


'' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''

Me: I don't own nothing!

It is set 2 years in the future.

'' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''

Dragon watched with curiosity as a tall, redheaded girl came storming into the courtyard.

"ARGH!" she exclaimed, kicking her long legs out blindly at the practice dummy.

With a beat of his powerful wings, Dragon flew off the castle wall and landed before her. He stretched his neck out towards the girl and surveyed her face with his large brown eyes.

"Is something wrong Jane?" Dragon asked questioningly.

She crossed her arms, her emerald green eyes blazed in frustration.

"Is it Gunther? Just say the word and that little shortlife is charcoal," Dragon said humourously, yet still threateningly.

"No, it is not Gunther. As annoying as he is," she sighed. "It is mother. She is doing it to me again! Have I not already told her enough times already?" Jane shouted out, more to herself than anyone.

"Umm… have I missed something here?" said Dragon, completely clueless to what Jane was rambling on about.

"I believe she is talking about the Ball, Dragon." A soft, mellow voice came.

'That voice could only belong to…' Jane's heartbeat quickened as she realised who had spoken,

"SMITHY!"

Jane ran towards the rudimentary forge where Smithy was leaning against a post, arms crossed, a smile on his face.

She enveloped him in a firm embrace, feeling his strong blacksmith muscles tighten against her as he hugged her back.

"Oh, Jethro. I've missed you," she whispered against his leatherwork apron.

Their intimate little moment interrupted by Dragon, who was blowing kisses teasingly in their direction.

Jane pulled away from Smithy, blushing.

"HA HA HA," Dragon laughed. "Jane and–," his scaly eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Hang on, what did you call him?"

"Jethro, Dragon!" said Smithy. "It is–"

"–his first name," finished Jane, glaring at Dragon, her face now almost as red as her hair.

"HA HA HA, really?"

He looked down at their faces; "I'll take that as a yes then."

"Jane and Jethro sitting in a tree… something, something… 1, 2, 3!" Dragon sang merrily.

"HA! Jethro! That is a funny name!"

"It is the name of my father," said Smithy, his gentle voice showing no sign of annoyance.

"Oh, well then–"

"That reminds me," interrupted Jane. "How was your trip to the farm?"

Every year Smithy visits his family on the pig farm out beyond the causeway. Before he came to the castle 6 years ago, when he was just ten-years-old, Smithy wanted nothing more than to take over the family farm when he became of age. Usually his trip was only a week or two, but this time he was away much longer. For two months Jane sat around his forge, wondering when he would be coming back. And it was a good thing that Smithy had returned, for not even Jester's jokes could cheer her up for her gloomy mood.

Smithy turned his face from her, "I… I do not want to talk about it."

"Oh… is everything alright?" Jane replied with concern, laying her hand on his shoulder.

"It is just… I… no, just leave it be, please."

And with that he brushed her hand off his shoulder and walked away, leaving a confused Jane behind him.

"What's wrong with Leather Legs?" Dragon said to Jane, peering around the stone arch, wondering where Smithy had ran off to.

"I… I do not know. I have never seen Smithy act like that before." Jane replied apprehensively, blowing a red tendril of hair out of her eyes. "Except for that time when Pig was ordered to be banished from the castle."

"Yeah, he sure does love that pig!" said Dragon absentmindedly, looking around the courtyard.

"Jane, quick! Come here!"

"What is it Dragon?" Jane asked worriedly, as she strolled over to him.

"Dragon sized itch! Right there, under my wing!"

She sighed, "Okay, Dragon."

"The rake, it's just there," Dragon pointed to the gardener Rake's garden tool that was propped up against the stonewall.

"AHHH! ITCH!"

With the rake in hand, Jane climbed up onto Dragon's scaly back and scratched at the itch.

"Ahhh… that's the spot… thank-you Jane."

"Now, what were we talking about?" Dragon asked as Jane jumped down. "Ah yes, the Ball."

"I am sorry Dragon," said Jane. "Could we please discuss that later, I am going to go find Smithy."

"Oh fine! Just leave your best friend here alone, while you go search for 'Jethro'!" Dragon joked, putting emphasis on Smithy's true name.

He smiled his toothy grin as Jane ran off, her mane of ruby-red ringlets bouncing along with her.

With a beat of his wings, Dragon took to the skies.

"Ah, shortlives." He chuckled to himself as he flew into the sunset.

'' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''

"Smithy," Jane called out softly as she strolled around the castle gardens.

She stretched out her fingertips so that they brushed gently against the petals of Rake's well-kept flowers.

She heard a faint sigh to her right.

There was Smithy, sitting beneath a large tree, back propped up against its trunk, his head down.

Perhaps he didn't hear her approaching, perhaps he didn't care.

But Jane did sincerely care about him. And that's what made her go sit next to him and take his hand in hers.

Smithy tensed at her touch, but relaxed a little as she gave his hand a light squeeze.

They sat there in silence for a while, the lush green grass beneath them brushing against their legs in the cool night breeze.

She watched as the gentle wind ruffled Smithy's unruly blonde hair, and as a lone tear trailed down his face. It made its path over his cheek to his chin, where it lingered for a moment before falling down onto his awaiting outstretched palm.

He stared at it for a minute or two, then wiped it away.

Jane felt like crying herself, though she had no idea why.

Smithy raised his head and looked up to the heavens; stars were already beginning to light up the darkening sky.

The moon's shine reflected in his deep blue eyes, and cast a silvery light upon his face.

Jane put her free hand on his muscular arm, as a gesture of comfort.

Then he spoke, so quietly that Jane almost missed it.

"This tree," he whispered sullenly. "Do you remember when Rake planted it?"

Jane shook her head.

"It's a fig tree. A few years ago Rake planted it for me, figs are my favourite food, did you know?"

She smiled and nodded.

"When I was very young, my… my mother," he choked out. "She bought some. We didn't have much money, you see, so… so it was a real treat for me. I have never had them since."

Jane just listened on as he sighed, "I was truly grateful when Rake tried to grow this tree, but the fruit will never ripen. It is always too cold."

"Jethro," Jane said tenderly. "What is bothering you?"

He just stared at his blacksmith boots.

"Please, talk to me!"

"WHY? WHY MUST YOU KNOW?" He burst out.

Jane shrank back away from him; she had never seen Smithy get mad, ever. 'He is always so calm,' she thought. 'Why is he suddenly so, so…touchy?'

Jane got up to leave, when Smithy grasped her wrist with his hand.

"No, Jane… I'm so sorry. I… I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm sorry," he mumbled, head hung in shame.

"It's just…"

She resumed her position next to him, listening intently.

"It's just… at the farm… my mother… she… she died," He whispered between sobs.

Jane placed her hand over her heart in shock.

"Oh, Jethro. I… I am really sorry, honestly."

He said nothing. Jane could see it in his face that he was struggling to hold back the tears that were threatening to break free.

"It is okay to cry," she whispered quietly to him.

"No, it's not!" he replied grimly. "Father said so. He said I am to be a man soon, and a man does not cry!"

"That is not true and you know it!" She exclaimed, she herself on the verge of tears.

But he couldn't help it, tears poured down his greif-stricken face.

"Why? Why did she have to die?" Smithy whispered.

Jane shuffled around so she faced him. Blue met green as he stared into her eyes, then wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

"Thank-you," his smooth, rich voice whispered in her ear, sending shivers through her body.

Jane smiled, "Your welcome."

'' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''


End file.
